


Nurture The Two

by Nona__AM



Series: OQPromptParty2018 [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, OQPromptParty2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 07:12:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14051703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nona__AM/pseuds/Nona__AM
Summary: Written for OQ Prompt Party 2018Prompt 60 - Missing Year and it's Roland's birthday.Prompt 178 - Regina cares for Robin during the Missing Year.Entry Day: Thursday, March 22nd.





	Nurture The Two

**Author's Note:**

> I don't often write stories that aren't completely au, so the characters might be a little (a lot) out of character. Be gentle on my sensitive lil heart!

* * *

Regina didn't see them during breakfast, Locksley and his pint-sized offspring, but the Merry Men were there, loud and rowdy as usual, reminding her exactly why she couldn't stand them.

They weren't present for lunch either, his and his son's spots were empty, and no one spoke of them, as if they ceased to exist.

It was strange, and she was curious, but she didn't inquire their whereabouts. The last thing she wanted was for Snow White to get the wrong impression and sit her down through a Q and A about an affair that never happened. Never will happen.

She'll admit, Robin was attractive. She caught herself staring time after time and smiling at the sight of him playing around with his son, chasing him across the gardens and attacking him with tickles. She always looked away and composed herself whenever she was caught, pretending to focus on anything but him. His smug smiles, though, told her she did a lousy job at that. And she walked in on him nude. It wasn't something she planned on doing, obviously, it was an accident. She was out for a walk, allowing her feet to drag her as far away as possible from the Charming's when she stumbled on him bathing in the river.

She may or may have no relieved some tension later that night with him on her mind.

But that was besides the point. She was a queen and he was a thief—an aggravating their who enjoyed nothing more than to provoke her.

Still, his absence made her wonder, so she wended her way toward the bedchamber he was provided with, being as quiet as she could to avoid unwanted attention.

He was there, both of them were, she could see a silhouette of their figures inside the room. Robin was laying in bed and Roland was on the floor, keeping himself busy with the toy monkey she gave him when they met. He was talking to it, asking it questions as though the doll would answer him. It didn't, it couldn't, but the youngster was still entertained by it, bringing a delighted smile to her lips.

Well, she came, she saw, and they both seemed alright. However, as Regina turned around to leave, she heard a whooping cough that stopped her dead in her tracks, followed by a gasp and gentle but rapid taps on the ground.

"Papa, are you okay?"

She frowned, taking a step closer to the ajar door again and peeking inside. Roland was leaning over his father's body, his face twisted in concern, and Robin was quiet, but she could see his head bobbing in the dimly lit room.

"Do I get Little John now?"

"There's…there's no need," Robin managed before coughing again.

Regina shifted on her feet and pushed the door open, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip when both boys looked up at her. Robin's eyes widened and Roland perked up, greeting her with his big, dimpled grin.

"Gina!"

"Little thief," she replied with the nickname he insisted on being called, flashing him a smile.

"Your Majesty." Robin hurried to arise, and she lifted her hand to stop him.

"Don't move," she requested, watching him grimace and lean back into the mattress without any arguments. He really must be feeling like crap if he wasn't being his usual stubborn self. "Neither of you showed up for breakfast or lunch."

"Don't," she demanded, softly rather her usual harsh tone, and watched him grimace and lean back into the mattress without any arguments. He really must be feeling like crap if he wasn't being his stubborn self. "Neither of you showed up for breakfast or lunch."

"I'm not hungry."

"And I'm not hungry, too," Roland interposed with a firm nod. "I'm not gon' eat without Papa."

"Are you sure you aren't hungry? You haven't eaten anything." Her voice was gentle as her fingers brushed his curls back. His answer came in the form of his growling stomach. He looked up at her sheepishly and she chuckled, "So you _are_ hungry."

"A little," Roland murmured, then added, "a lot."

"Come here." She held out her hand for him, beckoning him when he hesitated, glancing between her and his father. It was sweet that he didn't want to leave Robin's side through his illness, but he was a growing boy, he needed to eat. "How about we prepare some food for you and your papa, and bring it up here?"

"Your Majesty, it's not necessary—" Robin tried, but his coughing fit interrupted him. And as stubborn as he thought he was, she was worse. She wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Lay back, relax. I've got this." She helped Roland off the bed and tightened her hand slightly around his when he reached for it. On the way out, she glanced over her shoulder at Robin with a small smile edging at her lips. "That's an order from your queen, thief."

* * *

The castle used to be her abode for years but she never stepped a foot inside the kitchens, never had a reason to. She was the queen, everything she ever wanted was delivered to her in short order. She knew absolutely nothing when she first woke up in Storybrooke, not how to cook an egg or even boil a pot of water, she wasn't sure how to turn the burner on, but she taught herself. She learned by trial and error, and it took sometime before she got the hang of it all. However, things weren't the same in the Enchanted Forest—there were no crockpots and convection stoves, and there were no written instructions to help her, she had to figure out how to get a goddamn cast iron stove to work without electricity or any help.

"Gina?"

As irritated as Regina was, her expression softened when she looked back at Roland. He managed to get up on the wooden table by himself and sat on the edge of it, swinging his little legs back and forth. "Yes, dear?"

"What are we going to make for Papa and me?"

"Soup," she answered, then continued with a grumble, "as soon as I get this thing to work."

There was silence as she continued inspecting the stove, scowling at every failed attempt to get it to work. She could ask someone to assist her but no, Regina Mills would never ask anyone for help. And she didn't have an answer for if they asked her what she was doing in the kitchens at this time of the afternoon, and for whom was she making the soup. Rumors will spread like wildfire if they realized she was tending to the sick outlaw—not that she was. She wasn't. She wasn't _caring_ for him, she was simply preparing something for him and his son to eat. Roland was as stubborn as his father, he wouldn't eat if Robin didn't.

A humph from behind startled Regina, she stood upright and looked in the direction of the sound with wide eyes.

"Hi, Granny!" Roland chirped, and the old woman greeted him in return with a smile before scowling at Regina again.

"What're you doing in here?"

Regina stiffened at her tone and narrowed her eyes. "I don't see how is that any of your business."

"It is my business if you're mucking around in my kitchen," Granny retorted.

Regina scoffed, "I'm not _mucking around_ —and since when did this become yours?"

"Since I began cooking for everyone."

"We're making soup for Papa because he's not feeling well," Roland replied, unaware of the position his innocence put Regina in. "But Gina doesn't know how to get that thing to work," he said, nodding in the direction of the stove.

She didn't miss the smirk that pulled at Granny's lips for a second before the old woman schooled her features and glared once more.

Wordlessly, Granny pushed past her, opened the stove's chamber and tossed in the wood, compressing them tightly into the small cavity before lighting up a match and throwing it in. "There," she grunted as she got up on her feet again, dusting the front of her dress. "Y'know, nothing will happen to ya if you ask for some help every now and then, _Your Majesty_."

Regina wasn't sure what to make out of Granny's words, whether she was sneering at her lack of skills or it was her way of chaffing. Either way, she ignored it. Her eyes following the old woman out of the kitchens before landing on Roland's beaming face.

"We gon' be making the soup now?"

"Yes we are, and you're going to be my little helper," she answered, tapping the tip of his nose and drawing a giggle out of him.

Luckily, everything Regina needed to add into the soup was close at hand, and anything she couldn't find she used her magic to conjure it. The first time she summoned an ingredient she heard Roland gasp beside her. She was in the process of mentally scolding herself for not taking into consideration that he might not be used to being around magic, maybe even scared of it, when she heard him laugh and effuse about how _cool_ that was.

Before she knew it, she was making one thing appear after the other all for his entertainment.

"Gina?" Roland smacked his lips and swallowed a bite of the chocolate bar she magicked for him. "Did you know that I'm a big boy now?" She furrowed her brows in questioning, and he held up five fingers and exclaimed, "I'm this many today!"

_Oh._

"It's your birthday?"

"Mmhm!"

Why didn't he say anything about it earlier? She frowned, moving his curls out of his face and tucking them behind his ear. "And you're not celebrating it because your dad isn't feeling well?"

He nodded. "Papa was supposed to take me to the market and buy me a cookie." He sighed, his shoulders sagging, and his face twisted in distress when he looked up at her again. "Is…is Papa going to die, too, like Mama?"

Her heart dropped at his question. She didn't know much about his mother or her death, just enough to know that she wasn't the cause of it. That she didn't murder the woman in the midst of her rage and her thirst for vengeance. It wouldn't have surprised her if she did, though—she unmindfully burned down villages back in her evil days.

Marian, Snow told her was her name, died because of an illness when Roland was just a baby. She didn't include details on whether the illness was discovered far too late or if they couldn't afford the medicine it required, or if no healer was able to cure her. Regina never asked. Frankly, she didn't care all that much then.

She _still_ didn't care, but the look on the boy's face was heartbreaking.

"Nothing is going to happen to him," she promised, emphasizing each word in reassurance while cradling his face in her hands. "I'll see to it myself. But it's just a little grippe, nothing a hearty soup and some care wouldn't fix."

That seemed to put Roland's mind to ease, he gave her a name and smiled. "Thank you for taking care of him, Gina."

She hummed, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. "You're welcome, sweetheart." She took a step back and tapped his nose. "But in the meantime, while the soup is still brewing, what do you say we make a cake for the birthday boy?"

"A cake?" His eyes widened in disbelief, and she nodded. "And I get to make it with you?"

"I don't think I'll be able to make it without you. You're my little helper," she reminded, a smile spreading across her face at the way he perked up.

* * *

Making a soup in the Enchanted Forest was hard, but making a cake from scratch was proven to be even harder. Fortunately for Regina, she had magic. She wasn't forced to use so much elbow grease to mix everything together. With just a flick of her hand or a snap of her fingers, magic did most of it for her. Still, they somehow ended up covered in flour. And, in all honesty, she didn't care. She didn't care if she was found by someone in that state.

It wasn't a huge cake, nothing like the ones she was used to having for the majority of her birthdays. It was a one-tiered, layered cake filled with sweetened cream and fresh strawberries. Simple, but Roland looked at it as if it was the most awe-inspiring thing he ever laid his eyes on.

"So," Regina puffed out a breath and swiped the back of her hand across her forehead, wiping the light sweat that formed from the heat of the kitchen combined with moving around. "Do you think we did a good job?" she asked, stepping back to admire the leaning masterpiece they put together. It wasn't her greatest work, it tore a bit while they were handling it and some of the bottom layer ended up sticking to the pan, but it came out decent enough to look inviting.

Roland nodded excitedly, then jumped and threw his arms around her neck, knocking her a step back and taking her completely by surprise.

Children never hugged her. They usually ran away from her, screaming and in tears, scrambling to hide from the big, mean and evil queen—they never ran _to_ her.

Regina closed her eyes and tightened her arms around him. Just like his father, this little boy had been showing her nothing but kindness since day one, and while he didn't quite fill the void Henry left behind, nothing ever could, it certainly soothed the pain that gripped her.

They carried the cake with two bowls of soup on a tray to the bedchamber. Well, Regina did. It was far too heavy for Roland to pick up, even though he insisted on lending her a helping hand, reminding her that he was a big boy now, he could easily get his own bowl. She humored him for a moment, handing him the one that was filled the least, and his eyes quickly widened before he dropped the bowl on the table, blowing on both his hands. She warned him it was too hot, but he was a Locksley, he wouldn't listen to her.

Regina sat by the bed, cooling down both their soups by stirring them with a spoon. She'd use her magic, however, she got carried away in the kitchens and tired herself out, and she needed some energy just incase a flying monkey showed up. She was staring at Robin while Roland busied himself beside her, drawing stick figures on parchment and going on about his adventures with the Merry Men. She listened, only partially, her focus mostly on Robin. His expression was calm, his breathing was even, but his face was flushed and he coughed every now and then, sniffling but remaining asleep.

She moved off the chair and patted it for Roland to take her place, setting his soup in front of him. He dug right in, scarfing down the broth with some bread on the side. She wasn't sure if it was out of hunger or because of her promise to cut his cake right after.

Both, probably.

She lowered herself down on the edge of the bed and hesitantly reached to nudge Robin's arm. "Wake up," she muttered, frowning when he remained still, barely even flinching a muscle. She tried harder, rubbing up and down his arm this time. "Robin, wake up. I brought you something to eat."

He let out a hum then, and she smiled. "Not hungry," he answered her groggily.

"Well, you need to eat. At least a few spoonfuls," she urged, giving his bicep a pat. "Now, sit up a little."

He woke up after a bit more shaking and a few subtle threats, but he was in no shape or form to feed himself, he was barely able to keep his eyes open. So she fed him.

It irritated Regina at first, had her cursing her luck under her breath and questioning what life choices she made that led to this—she shouldn't be spoon-feeding a grown man, a thief, no less. And then he smiled at her. A faint, tired smile, and thanked her for the soup and for making his boy happy on his birthday when he was unable to. Sincerely.

No one thanked her before, no one really  _appreciated_ her.

She was swayed by it.

Maybe…he wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

 


End file.
